


Love Is Like A Bottle Of Gin

by qodarkness



Series: 69 Love Songs [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Because it’s always Theonsa, F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Past Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Songfic, That crispy umami tang of mixed angst and surreal silliness that I like, The Magnetic Fields - Freeform, Theonsa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 14:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21120623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qodarkness/pseuds/qodarkness
Summary: Theon wasn’t drunk but he wasn’t sober either. Sansa wasn’t sober, but then she wasn’t quite drunk either.Which led Theon, staring at what was on the coffee table in front of him to declare, “Love is like a bottle of gin.”





	Love Is Like A Bottle Of Gin

Theon wasn’t drunk but he wasn’t sober either. Sansa wasn’t sober, but then she wasn’t quite drunk either. They had both definitely been on the more drunk side of the equation earlier in the evening, but then Robb had taken himself off to bed (or more probably to Skype Margaery and oh, Drowned God, Theon was never getting over accidentally walking in on them Skype sexting and Sansa wasn’t sure Skype sexting was the correct term but she’d held Theon’s hand gently as he’d poured out the horror of the moment and had even gone and bought him more beer when what he had in the fridge hadn’t proven enough) and Jon had been picked up by Ygritte and taken home for some more domestic bliss and Arya had been taken out by Gendry to do whatever ludicrously dangerous thing they would dare each other at (axe throwing? Sansa thought it was axe throwing but Theon thought it was indoor rock climbing and together they’d decided it would probably end with Arya climbing up a rock wall while daring Gendry to throw axes at her, which he’d do perfectly and it would end up with impossibly loud sex that would hopefully happen at Gendry’s and only annoy Sam, not the entire Stark clan) and Bran and Rickon were at the Reeds, playing video games and somehow Theon and Sansa had ended up on the couches facing each other alone, and had slowed their drinking and now they were in that exact sweet spot where neither of them was quite drunk or quite sober. 

Which led Theon, staring at what was on the coffee table in front of him, to declare, “Love is like a bottle of gin.”

Sansa looked at the bottle of gin on the table and scoffed. “What?” she said. “Small and made of glass?”

“Sansa Stark,” said Theon, pressing his hand melodramatically to his chest. “You wound me.”

She raised an eyebrow, shrugged. “Probably less than Arya wounds Gendry.”

“Well, yes,” replied Theon. “But he makes knives. And she throws knives. And how the hell did she find her perfect person when she’s so… Arya?”

“Luck,” replied Sansa, solemnly. “Because it was Gendry or she was going to have to run off and join the circus and then she’d be both the knife thrower and the tattooed lady and they probably wouldn’t have paid her enough for both and then I’d have to tell her to join a union and I don’t know if tattooed ladies have a union.”

“This conversation,” said Theon, “appears to have gone off the rails. Did I mention love is like a bottle of gin?”

“Yes, Theon,” sighed Sansa, taking another sip from the margarita slushy she’d been working on for some time now (it was less slushy, more slightly tepid puddle by now, but she was nothing if not dedicated to reducing food waste). “Why is love like a bottle of gin?”

“Because it turns a genius into an idiot,” said Theon. “And makes idiots think they’re wise.”

Sansa laughed, short and sharp. “It isn’t that,” she replied. “Love is like a bottle of gin because it makes you blind. And makes you say stupid things.” Her voice was suddenly as bitter as the tonic water that was also on the table.

Theon looked up at her, a slightly sideways look. “You’re only saying that because of the thing with the gin slings on Arya’s 18th birthday,” he said, with all the sagacity of the man who’d held Sansa’s hair back as she’d vomited for what had felt like hours that night. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Sansa nodded firmly. “Also the thing with Harry.”

“Well, yes, that,” agreed Theon. “Those were some definitely stupid things you said then. I mean, the man had a nice arse, I’ll agree with you there. It was just a shame he was also an arse for brains.”

“And taste in his arse,” muttered Sansa into her margarita. She would never forgive him for fucking Jeyne Poole (ex-best friend and ex-Jon-girlfriend until the night when both Jon and Sansa had been informed of their newly single status by an ill-timed discovery of said-Harry and said-Jeyne’s short but intense relationship in the cupboard under the stairs - well at least according to the many tear-stained texts to Jon that insisted it was only the one blowjob, and couldn’t he forgive Jeyne, please - except Jon was not the forgiving type and nor, Sansa had discovered, was she). 

“It’s like a bottle of gin because,” and suddenly Theon’s oh so expressive mouth quirked downwards, old pain written there, “it does you in.”

“It does,” said Sansa, and reached out, her fingers lightly trailing over Theon’s, a moment of reassurance. “But it takes you in as well.”

He had been around forever, since Sansa was small, since Robb had dragged the skinny quiet kid home from school and told Ned that Theon needed him. The Starks had always absorbed the strays and waifs. She remembered being told about Jon, how Ned and Catelyn had taken Jon in when he was a baby, when Ned’s sister, Lyanna hadn’t coped when Jon’s father had dumped his wife and family for her and then went back to them without a backward glance when she was five months pregnant, leaving her alone to raise Jon. She’d managed as best she could, but she’d refused to tell Ned about Jon until it was almost too late, when she’d been in hospital dying, months later, of pneumonia they just couldn’t cure and she’d finally overcome her shame enough to give them her big brother’s number. Jon had been one of the Stark clan since then.

Then Robb had brought them Theon, who’d been there sometimes in the background of Sansa’s life until his mother died and his home life went from shitty to plain dangerous and eventually he’d pretty much moved in with them to get away from his older brothers who took after his mad fucking uncle, Euron (and Sansa had heard Ned talking once about what Euron had done to his brother Aeron when they were children, and how that had broken Aeron and turned him into a weird religious fanatic and Ned had only stopped when he realised Sansa was listening), and his father who had apportioned one hundred percent of the blame for his mother’s death to Theon and punished him accordingly. He was a bit of a shitty kid, and crude, and Sansa had hated him half the time, but Ned had counselled patience and let Sansa in on some of the reasons why Theon had to get away from his family and live with them. 

The worst bit about Theon’s family, Sansa knew, because she had been the one who had found Theon in the lounge room the day they’d rung to tell him that Rodrik and Maron had died in a boating accident, had been that he’d never been able to stop loving them. 

Like the bottle of gin, love had done him in that day. 

“That it does,” said Theon and raised his glass in a toast. “Fuck knows what would have happened to me if you Starks hadn’t come along and saved me. So love is like a bottle of gin because there is no substitute.”

Sansa snorted. “Certainly hope there’s a substitute. Seeing I’m never drinking gin again in my whole life.”

“You’re just bitter because of Arya’s birthday,” said Theon, grinning at her from beneath his mop of curly hair, effortlessly charming.

“Damn right I am,” replied Sansa. “But you can hardly talk. It’s not like you’ll ever drink bourbon again.”

It was worth it, thought Sansa, just to see the look on Theon’s face, the weird semi-convulsion that ran down his body at the thought of bourbon. Robb’s 21st had had much the same effect on Theon as Arya’s 18th had had on Sansa. Except Theon’s misery had involved a lot more taunting from Jon. High quality taunting, everyone had agreed afterwards, even Theon, when he’d finally emerged from his bedroom several days later and several shades paler. 

“So love is like a bottle of gin because it can make you regret your birth?” asked Theon and suddenly Sansa had to turn her face away from him, feeling the tears start in her eyes. 

“Theon…” she said softly and didn’t have to say more.

They had both been there, in their own way. When Theon had lost himself completely in his late teenage years and Ramsay Bolton had been the one to find him; Ramsay and his sadistic little ways of cutting Theon off from everyone who loved him, of cutting off pieces of Theon when Theon craved punishment for the crime of being alive when his brothers weren’t, when his mother wasn’t. It had taken Robb and Sansa finding him, persuading him he was worth saving, for him to finally escape the personal hell Ramsay had crafted so carefully for him. Robb and Sansa and six months of intensive rehab. 

Three good things had come out of that time. Somehow, somewhere, when he was fighting his way off the drugs and the self-destructive mindset he’d come to rely on, Theon and his sister Yara had managed to reconnect and now their fierce love for each other was a cornerstone of both their lives. Theon’s relationship with Robb, which had broken down when Theon had stolen from the Starks at Ramsays’s behest, had been rebuilt and was stronger than ever.

And the best thing that had come of it, thought Sansa, was having someone to turn to, someone who had fallen further and broken harder than she had when she had let Joffrey do what he had done to her. Someone she could call who wouldn’t seek revenge on Joffrey or threaten or bluster or posture, but simply picked her up and took her somewhere safe, tended her wounds, held her hand until she’d fallen asleep and been there, keeping her safe, when she had woken in fright. Someone who had come with her to court when she’d filed the restraining order, but didn’t need her to report Joffrey’s crimes against her to the police, because she couldn’t do that, didn’t have the strength for that. Someone who understood that sometimes it wasn’t about revenge or justice, but just about feeling safe inside your own skin again. 

It had taken them both time and the fierce boundless supportive love of the whole Stark clan, but they’d both managed to find themselves again. 

“But it’s not all gloom,” said Theon. “Love is like a bottle of gin because it can make you see rainbows and make the sun shine.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow at him. “Like Ros?” she teased. 

“Like Ros,” grinned Theon and raised a toast to his first serious girlfriend. His only serious girlfriend, let’s be honest, because other than Ros, a week was a long time in Theon-girlfriend-land. She’d been older than him and hadn’t loved him like he loved her, but she’d been good to him and kind and they’d parted on good terms in the end, and that was something Theon had needed to learn as much as some of the other things Ros had taught him. “And Shae,” he teased.

“And Shae,” agreed Sansa. She hadn’t loved Shae, not really, no more than Shae loved her, but there had been a deep affection between them, and their relationship had helped Sansa past the worst hurts that Joffrey had inflicted on her. Sansa hadn’t been ready for love then, and she didn’t think Shae was actually capable of it, but it had been good and it had helped Sansa heal a great deal. Then Shae had run off with a rich older businessman, but that had almost made Sansa laugh more than it had upset her. It was so _ very _Shae. “And love is like a bottle of gin because it can make you do cartwheels,” said Sansa.

Theon looked at her suspiciously. “Can you do cartwheels, Sansa?”

She looked at him, askance. “You are lucky I am exactly the right amount of drunk to do this,” she said and stood up. She shoved the couch she was sitting on slightly forwards to give her room behind it and then executed a perfect cartwheel. 

Theon burst out laughing and then, cheering loudly, applauded Sansa as she curtsied deeply for him until Robb bellowed down the stairs for them to shut the fuck up. 

“I didn’t know you could do that,” said Theon. “How did I not know you could do that?”

“Well, I was going to try out for the cheerleading squad. Until I decided to do…” She paused, trying to remember exactly which extra-curricular activity had crowded out cheerleading. 

“Everything else?” Theon asked, helpfully. “Ms President Stark of every high school and college club ever?”

“Maybe that,” said Sansa. “I still think my favourite was being President of the Cyvasse Club at college.”

“You did that just to piss Jon off, didn’t you?” asked Theon and Sansa grinned wildly at him.

“He thought he was so fucking good at it and he was so hopeless,” she said. “I couldn’t let him be President. He’s the most useless strategist in the world. He has absolutely no idea how to deploy an elephant. And he kept losing dragons. I took out his dragon with rabble once! Not even a crossbowman! Gods, I so enjoyed that. He sulked for _ days_!”

“He always sulked,” said Theon. “All the time. And brooding. He brooded way too much.”

“And you laughed at him too much,” replied Sansa. “You know you did. You were a shit to him. Always smiling like you knew a joke he just didn’t get. That none of us got. Just you.” 

“I know.” Theon shrugged. “But it was laugh or cry, you know? It’s easier to keep people away if they think you’re laughing at them.”

“You are,” said Sansa, “just one giant defensive mechanism, Theon Greyjoy.”

He grinned at her wryly. “Ah, well,” he said softly, not denying it. “Except for the fact I don’t have any defences against you, Sansa Stark. You dismantled them years ago.”

She was, Sansa decided, exactly the right amount of drunk. Sober enough to know what she was doing, drunk enough to be brave.

“There is another way love is like a bottle of gin,” she said, matter of factly.

Theon looked at her, raised an eyebrow enquiringly. “How so?” he asked. 

“Because it’s right in front of you,” she said softly, not quite looking up from where her eyes were fixed on the bottle of gin. 

There was a long silence, an empty moment when she wondered if this was all about to prove to be a horrible mistake. 

Then a hand was under a chin, lifting it up and her blue eyes met ones that held an ocean’s storm and a world and a lifetime of love. Then Theon’s mouth was on hers and despite the coffee table between them and the weird angle and the fact that he was the shitty kid who’d laughed at her princess stories and he’d held back her hair when she’d vomited and she’d seen the scars that laced his body and the scars that laced his heart, it was still the best kiss she’d ever had. 

Then his mouth slipped away from hers, and he rested his forehead against hers. “Sansa,” he said and her name was a prayer on his lips. “You taste like…”

“Crappy warm margarita?” she said wryly. 

“Lemons,” he said and grinned. “And happiness. And forever.” 

“Yes,” she said. “All of those things,” and then took his hand and led him up to her room. 

*****

Despite their lack of sleep, they were still the first ones up in the morning and so it was Robb that found them first when he came down to breakfast, Sansa sitting on the kitchen bench, her legs wrapped around Theon’s waist, her head buried in the crook of his neck, because she couldn’t get enough of the taste and the smell of him. 

Robb, who was never at his best in the morning (particularly after a lengthy Skype chat with Margaery) took a few moments to work out what he was seeing. Then he yawned, and scratched his stomach beneath his t-shirt as he got cereal out of the cupboard. 

“About fucking time,” he said and Sansa laughed and Theon laughed and helped her down from the bench, before going to make her toast.

His love for Sansa was like a bottle of gin, distilled over a lifetime and clear and crisp on his tongue and he would be, Theon knew, happy to drink it forever.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was going to do a challenge (to myself, nobody set me this challenge) starting during November for NaNoWriMo where I was going to do one Theonsa story per day based on a song from The Magnetic Fields’ 69 Love Songs album. Except that’s a lot more songs than days in November, so no harm in starting early right? Because this idea got in and wouldn’t go away. 
> 
> Also, me. Wrote a modern Theonsa AU! Something I never really expected to happen. Like ever. (And yes, my ongoing stories are still being written - just sometimes it’s easier to write fluffy one shots :). 
> 
> The lyrics to Love Is Like A Bottle Of Gin: https://genius.com/The-magnetic-fields-love-is-like-a-bottle-of-gin-lyrics


End file.
